2025/26 Here we come!

Despite my youthful bragging and half hearted attempts at skincare, my poor little aging body has been exposed to extreme landscapes and temperatures over the last few weeks, as I've travelled first south, then north,  in an odyssey of over 7000 kms  (and yes, thats true, because i looked it up especially on Google maps!!!). 

It goes like this……..

Round One: for my 60th birthday i had requested a family trip to my fave haunt of Marrakech, given that our little clan is dotted in differing parts of the world, and some dedicated time with just my brood was the most special gift of all. So mid October saw us wandering through souks and alleyways in balmy heat, bickering as only families can,  drinking teas and vin gris, and exploring the curiosities of the excellent ‘chicken shop’ street food, at Bab Doukkala, given that European prices seem to have sadly arrived in Morocco. The city is boiling, mad, paradoxical,  full of cats and smells, and always, always an enchanting vibe. 

Round Two: A plane, a car trip and WHUMP!, back home to the mellow autumn sunshine of Tuscany. Those rushed few days saw a spot of final gardening and frenetic putting away before winter, woodstacking, changing duvets and doing a clothing changeover (the so called cambio di stagione). We also fitted in a few bright and impossibly romantic days of olive picking in our uliveto (olive grove); 30 litres of bright green peppery oil, sublime poured over lightly toasted Tuscan bread and a little glass of vino novello to wash it down. Just saying!

Round Three: WHUMPISSIMO! By Halloween we were 8 hours north, passing  through the central misty plains of Italy, into the western Alpine foothills, past the exquisite charm of the little town of Domodossola , and up up, round the swooping curves and  the wartime feel mists of the Simplon Pass between Italy and Switzerland. 

At the top of the pass sits a giant stone carved eagle, at least 10 metres high, glaring at the massive peaks, and on the other side of the road, the imposing austere hulk of the Hospiz Alm building, a religious refuge originally used for devout groups and ailing wearied travellers in search of respite from the bleak wildness of the mountain winter landscape. A few weakly lit windows can be seen through the darkness and there is an overall pervasive and sinister unease, as if at one time, the building had witnessed bloodshed and mistrust. I cannot imagine the courage required, in times gone by,  to knock at the huge and ominous front door, hoping to be welcomed with comfort and kindness. 

The building itself is reminiscent of the Grand Budapest Hotel. It feels shrouded in secret trysts, betrayals, and far fetched plots,  in an era of Dukes and villains and offshoots of caddish aristocracy, a world of rustling silks and taffetas, twirling moustaches and Viennese waltzes. It is a building that makes me bristle irksomely every time I pass this way. 

And then you are in Switzerland. The signs change language, your Roaming pings, and the bends and tunnels head down and down, along the Sion Valley, past Brig and Visp, a quick shimmy off to the left, back up into the mountains, finally arriving at the dark melancholy of the Saas Valley, and our little Airbnb apartment in the charmlessly named Saas Grund.

At the end of 2024, exactly a year ago, we stayed here for two months, ski training up on the glacier. It was a joy to return to our little bolt hole. It's warm and cosy and is bathed in sunshine all day. 

The glacier itself, at Mittelallalin, up at 3500m, is a bit of a schlep, to say the least. It’s an early start, a 15 minute bus trip to the main ski town of Saas Fee, a brisk 10 minute walk to the 2 huge gondola rides to the Felskinn middle station,  and then a final stumble, skis, boots and extraneous paraphernalia strapped to random limbs,  through the long tunnel walk to the 5 minute funicular train to the very very top. 

The endless ski kit list was weird to make after 5 months off skis: goggles, helmet, gloves, unders, socks, boots, boot heaters, goggle covers, snoods, sun cream, lip balm, hair bobbles, blahdy blahdy blah..a realm of ‘stuff’ to remember that would make your hair stand on end. 

Now here Ladies, I HAVE to include a BUNION update, just in case anyone is afflicted or considering having the op. I am unequivocally  delighted to report that, after my operation in April, my left foot slipped easily into my boot, and my right turn seems so far both stable and somewhat transformed. Well worth the discomfort. 

Finally then, and over 2 full hours since we left the house, we arrived puffing into the oxygenless air, to gaze over the violent gashes and blue seracs of the glacier itself. 5 pistes,  3 T-bars, and a whole lot of ski technique to remember. 

Fortunately enough, we have the Best Trainer in the World, our WoW partner and owner of Sommet et Neige ski school in Nendaz, where this year we are running proper technical ski clinics, as well as our outstanding WoWSkiTours weeks in the Italian Dolomites.  

We are ski training of course,  partly for ourselves. Ski technique, at whatever level, is always a work in progress. But, and here’s something i really want to underline, we train also for YOU. We cannot arrive at the beginning of the season, with only a few days skiing under our belts. We need to have got over by miles those first uncomfortable runs, to feel sure in our movements, to be acutely aware of our balance and stance.  We need to be safe and able to keep you guys safe too. Our commitment to your well being is paramount.  

This weekend the resort is opening to the public. The parties have started. The Gap courses have begun, and the shops are hailing wares at every turn. There’s DJ throbbing, overcrowded lunch venues and heady anticipation in the air for Winter 2026. 

We have some final spaces in our January programmes, both in the Dolomites and in Nendaz, Switzerland. We sell out every year. Don’t procrastinate and put off your booking. 

We at WoW are ready.  

Are you?